sing it back...
so i'm at brendan's house. have been for two days. very tired, very dirty, very hungry. my computer has a virus. it's killing it. farewell computer. stupid computer. old, retarded, spaztic, stupid. dumb dumb dumb. i want to go away, far far away. can i do that? would that be alright with everyone, if i just left? maybe i won't come back. that might be good. i can leave, never come back. but where to go? JetBlue has 17 non-stop flights to California daily, see i've done my research. i have some money, probably just enough to get me there. but what would i do after that? nowhere to live, i'd live under a boardwalk, with the drug addicts, alcoholics and homeless people. they'll become my family and we'll learn to look out for eachother and everything will be alright. one day i'll want to go back home, but i'll have no money to get back. i'll want to leave and come back to Long Island, because i'll realize that i have contracted AIDS and cannot afford to go to the hospital. i'll be slowly dying under the boardwalk in that town in California, while the woman who has 73 cents to her name and 3 children to feed holds my hand and tells me that i'm going to a better place. and then i leave again, and it won't be my choice.
looks like i'm staying in new york.
looks like i'm staying in new york.